66 But the city constable was by no means inclined to abate one jot of his prerogative; if it was a criminal offence, his was the privilege to have a prior claim on the persons of the offenders, and a criminal offence it was, even by the turnkey's own showing. They were in his custody," he maintained," before the turnkey came up, and the merit of their capture, and the reward, if any, was due to himself and his colleague Peter, who supported his superior's claim with all the eloquence of which he was master; and as a practical illustration of their constabulary rights, he stepped into the coach, and told the occupants that they were his prisoners. Joe was about to get in also; but the superior constable opposed him, alleging that it was necessary for both the constables to accompany the prisoners, and that there was only room for four. He then directed the coachman to proceed with his charge to Guildhall; and Joe lost no time in making his way back to the Fleet, to acquaint the warden with the turn which affairs had taken, and to receive instructions for his future proceedings. The coachman, wrapped in his own virtue and his great coats, was an impassive spectator of the scene enacted within the walls of his ambulatory theatre, save and except that he grieved profoundly at the loss of the promised five pounds. But, as the said five pounds were not likely to come his way, he submitted patiently to his destiny; and as it was his fate to drive two rogues to the justice-room, instead of two sparks of quality to Hyde Park, so long as the fare was paid, it was all the same to him! But the altercation between the constables and the turnkey had attracted a considerable concourse of idlers round the coach, who waited for the issue of the contest with intense curiosity; and as soon as it was buzzed about that a Lord and a Captain were being conveyed before the justice for some atrocious crime unknown, no small portion of the crowd accompanied the vehicle to Guildhall; so that on their arrival at that celebrated tribunal, Ned and his friend Dick found themselves escorted by a large train, which had increased, as is usual on such occasions, like a snowball as they had passed along, and their approach therefore was hailed with much excitement by the subsidiary authorities assembled at the entrance of the office. But as there was a culprit at that moment under examination for aiding a prisoner to escape from the Fleet, the new-comers had to wait for their turn, as the good old rule of first come first served, holds good at police offices as elsewhere, although it is a rule which those who entertain a reasonable prospect of being hanged, would willingly waive in favour of others with inferior pretensions. The prisoner under examination at that moment was Kitty, who had been put to the bar on the charge already mentioned. The alderman consulted the clerk on the nature of the offence. The clerk was a little puzzled at first, such cases being rare; and whether it was a felony or a misdemeanour only, he could not positively say; but it certainly was an offence of some sort ; for, as the alderman sagaciously observed, that if it was right to put people in prison for debt, it must be wrong for people so put in to get out, an opinion in which the clerk entirely acquiesced, with many expressions complimentary to the alderman's superior discrimination. The case therefore went on. Kitty was asked "whether she denied the fact?" "What fact?" asked Kitty, who had not yet recovered either from the effects of the gin or her fright. "The fact," said the alderman, in a severe tone, "of a prisoner having escaped from the Fleet, and of your having helped him to do it." "Lord love your worship," replied Kitty; "I never helped nobody to escape. If it was done by anybody it was not done by me, but by the old gentleman!" Now the magistrate was rather an elderly gentleman himself, but he by no means liked any allusion directly or indirectly to that fact. He inquired, therefore, with increased severity, "who the woman meant by the old gentleman!'" "Did you never hear of him!" exclaimed Kitty; "why, I thought everybody had heard of him, if they never saw him, for he makes himself very busy with people's affairs who would rather he didn't meddle with them." "What old gentleman does the woman mean?" repeated the alderman. "What old gentleman do you mean?" echoed the clerk; "what is his name?" "It's a name that I don't like to speak," replied Kitty, lowering her voice, and winking at the magistrate, in a confidential manner; "but I dare say your worship knows who I mean. It's him as has done all the mischief, and no other, let alone my own ghost that appeared to me in a flame of fire!" "Is the woman drunk or mad?" asked the magistrate. "I'm not drunk, and I'm not mad," said Kitty, shaking her head from side to side, with great gravity; "but it's enough to make any one mad to see your own self gibbering at you; and if it was the old gentleman himself, I take it as very unkind to appear like me! I'm sure I never did him any harm, but always spoke of him respectfully, as the Old Gentleman;' and never abused him as some do- and to serve me such a trick!" "Please your worship," interrupted a constable, "there's another woman in a coach at the door, as calls herself Kitty, as like to this woman as two peas, and a man who is charged with being a housebreaker, and the Farringdon officer has brought them both before your worship, for he doesn't know what to make of them." "Bring them in," said the alderman. "Oh Lord!" exclaimed Kitty. "Silence, woman!" There was a little commotion among the spectators at the announcement of another Simon Pure being at hand, claiming the questionable honour of being the respectable Mrs. Strongbolt; but as soon as Ned was ushered in, there was a murmur of admiration and applause. As soon as poor Kitty beheld her double in the person of another prisoner, she uttered a loud shriek, and was with difficulty prevented from making her escape from the apparition; but Ned, thinking that he might be as well in for a sheep as a lamb, stood boldly forth in his female character; but unlike the true Kitty, he assumed a modest attitude, and with his arms folded across his chest, awaited the customary interrogation. "What is your name?" demanded the clerk to the second Kitty. "Katherine Strongbolt," replied Ned, mincing up his mouth, and dropping a respectful curtsey. "Oh!" groaned Kitty. The office was so dark, that it was not easy to detect the false colours on the counterfeit Kitty's face and nose, and certainly the resemblance was so strong that it was sufficient to deceive more acute observers than the worthy alderman. Even the bonnet that Kitty had borrowed from a sister charwoman, was the counterpart of her own. "What are you," pursued the clerk. "I'm a poor charwoman,” replied Ned, "and I waits on the gentlemen in the Fleet, and does for 'em, please your worship." "It's the devil come to torment me again!" screamed Kitty, struggling to get away. "Silence, woman!" repeated the magistrate. "But how is this! Can there be two such women in the world?," Ned, upon this, affected to turn round towards the other woman, and lifting up his hands with astonishment exclaimed "Oh! the wretch!" "The wicked woman!" moaned Kitty, bonnet!" "he has got on my own Ned clasped his hands and leant over the dock, as if overcome with the abominable insinuation of "that bad woman!" "Here is the constable," said the Guildhall officer, "who took them into custody." "Let him stand forward," said the magistrate. Mr. Jacob Coddlewhiffe upon this stood forth, and turning his head from one to the other of the two Kittys, seemed to be in a state of considerable bewilderment at the sight. "You apprehended this woman," said the alderman. "Which woman! Why, don't you know which of them you brought here?" "I brought one of them," replied Coddlewhiffe, examining them both. "Which of you was it I brought here?" he asked, appealing to the women themselves, and wisely judging that they knew, if he didn't. "It wasn't me," said Ned, demurely. "Then it must be the other one," said the constable, "but they are both so alike, that which is which is more than I can tell!" "It's the Evil One!" roared out Kitty, trembling and shaking. "Oh! you wicked woman!" ejaculated Ned. "You was with her," said the constable, speaking to Dick; "which of the women was it who was with you? "That was the woman," replied Dick, pointing to Kitty. "Oh! you wicked one," said Kitty, appealing to Ned with a face in which fear and rage, and a certain respect for the "old gentleman," were curiously blended: "you will never be so cruel as to say that you are me! What did I ever do to anger you?" "Bad and intoxicated creature," said Ned in his turn, "how can you have the impudence to pretend to be me, as has waited on the gentlemen of the Fleet for these twelve years past? Is not this my poor husband's 'versary, as the savage New Zealanders ate up and pickled his head: do you deny that, woman?" "It's all true," said Kitty, dreadfully agitated; "it's all true as the gospel! and how could the thing know that if he wasn't the Evil One himself? I give it up! That must be me! I'm changed to some body else! and I shall never be myself any more! But if I ain't myself," said she, suddenly appealing to the magistrate, "who am I? I must be somebody! Will your worship be pleased to tell me?" His worship was as much puzzled at this appeal to his sagacity as Sancho Panza in the island of Barataria, and he began to revolve within himself the expediency of calling a jury of matrons, to examine the two female Dromios, when the officer of the court announced "The warden of the Fleet Prison, your worship." The warden made his way through the crowd, and took his place by the side of the magistrate. "Sir," said he, "I claim the person of one Edward Attical, who has escaped from the Fleet in the disguise of a charwoman, one Katharine Strongbolt." . . . At this moment, the warden regarded the duplicate Kittys, and stopped in amazement, for it was impossible to distinguish between the two either from their countenances or dress, so perfect was the resemblance, and so well had the painter performed his part in depicting on the face of Ned the portrait of the remarkable features and colours of Kitty's visage. "Then one of those two women is a man!" observed the alder man. "Just so,” replied the warden; "but which-Joseph Wardwhich is the real woman? Call Joseph Ward." Joe stood forward by the side of the bar. "Which is Mrs. Strongbolt, and which is our prisoner?" inquired the warden. Joe regarded Ned and Kitty alternately, with a curious eye. "You may know Kitty any day by her breath," said Joe. The officer in waiting immediately applied his nose to Kitty's face. Kitty saluted him with a strong but by no means odoriferous gale. "Gin," pronounced the officer. 66 Try the other one," said the clerk. The officer made a similar examination on the other woman. "Gin again," said he. "Please, your worship, they both smell of gin; but this one, pointing to Ned, not so bad as the other." "I see no way to settle it," said the alderman, "but by a jury of matrons." "They shan't touch me," said Kitty. "I won't have a pack of old women examining me," said Ned. "Stay," said Joe. "Please, your worship, will you allow me to take the bonnet off from that one?"-meaning Ned. "You may do so," nodded the alderman; " but I don't see how that will help you." Joe, however, guessed it would help him a good deal. Ned could make no resistance; so his head was politely uncovered by an officer. The alteration in his appearance was apparent. "He's booked," said an officer. "That is our prisoner," said Joe to the warden, pointing at Ned. "You see this woman's hair is all fuzzy, as if it hadn't been combed since she was born - besides, it is long; and the other one's hair is short." "If your worship would be pleased," suggested the clerk, "to desire the two women to show their hands." "Here are mine," said Kitty, protruding two paws of the hardness and colour of mahogany. "Show your's," said the clerk to Ned. Ned was obliged to comply; he would willingly have rubbed them on the floor of the office, which would quickly have made them dirty enough to pass for a coalheaver's; but he had not the opportunity. "Show your hands," repeated the alderman, peremptorily. The officer standing by him seized the sham charwoman's right hand taking the precaution, however, to defend his own, by interposing the protection of his pocket-handkerchief- and held it up for inspection. The hand was white and delicate. The clerk came close and examined it. "This is not a hand that ever did hard work," your worship. "The other one," he said to Ned. Ned was obliged to comply. His left hand was even more delicate and white than his right. The evidence against him grew strong. The officer close to him, who had in the mean time been examining his face, clinched it. "Please your worship," he said, "this here one is painted." "Get a basin of water," said the alderman. A basin was an article not readily to be found; but one of the people about the place, taking from some corner a piece of rag with which the magistrates' desk was wont to be dusted, wetted it at the adjacent pump, and the wet dishclout being applied to poor Ned's face, a little rubbing soon caused the colours, which had been painted in distemper, to run into each other in the most extraordinary hues and shadings. "That's enough," said the alderman. of being somebody else." "That one stands convicted Please, your worship," said Mr. Jacob Coddlewhiffe, who was exceedingly desirous of putting forward his own claim for sagacity in the matter of the false Kitty's identity, "he said he was somebody else at the watchhouse." "And who did he say 66 he was? Please, your worship, that there one said he was a lord - Lord Dunham and this here one said he was Captain Brown." "Dunham! Brown!" exclaimed the alderman,-" a nobleman and an officer! What have you to say to this, fellows?" 66 And, please your worship, they talked of Lady Emily this, and the Duchess that, and there was no end of dukes who was their uncles; and says this one, says he, What will Lady Emily say! and |